


Out of Many, One

by WaywardTimeLord



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, F/M, Pining, Secret Identity, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardTimeLord/pseuds/WaywardTimeLord
Summary: At a young age, Aria was forced from her home on the order of King Uther. Now, she is forced to come back. But Camelot is no longer where Aria believes she belongs. Out of the many things that happen to her on her journey to accept Camelot as her home once again, what is the one thing that makes her want to stay? Family? Magic? Merlin.





	Out of Many, One

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diera didn't have a solid border between it and Camelot. It was a small kingdom south of the Maze of Gedred. Someone traveling from Diera would have to cross two different kingdoms to enter Camelot. This means, of course, that there is no climactic and emotional moment of stepping across the border from your home to the place you never wanted to see again. If it were truly up to Aria, she would not have come.

So as Aria continued north towards the famous gates of Camelot, with no idea of who or what to expect, the reality of what she was doing hadn't set in. The fact that she had left everything that she had ever loved behind her didn't hit her. That is until she saw the Citadel.

The towering spires and high walls of Castle Camelot were said to be the only place in the Five Kingdoms that had never been overtaken. It was supposed to be a sanctuary. To be safe. In that moment, though, Aria had never been more afraid.

The Citadel was impenetrable, and it was equally as inescapable. None conquered it, and none left. If Aria's plan failed there was no leaving that place ever again. She began to imagine what it'd be like to spend her life in that castle rotting away. The fear was already pulsating through her began to wither away all the remaining strength and willpower she had left.

Aria's once steady pace slowly trickled into nothing until she stood stock still in her tracks. She had thought that coming here was a good idea. At the time Aria believed that her plan was clever, but now she understood why people ran away from their fears. There was no other place in the world that Aria feared or loathed more than Camelot, but it was precisely those feelings that made it so unlikely for her to take shelter within its city walls.

The knights and guards of Deira who undoubtedly would be sent to pursue Aria would know of her grudge against Camelot's king and of where she would be sent when she was caught. Camelot is the last place in the world she could ever call her home, so it was also the last place she would be looked for.

Despite all plans and logic, Aria still stood motionless. She had been born in Camelot, but it had been a very long time since Aria had called the city her home. Her last memory of this kingdom was a painful one. She was only a child when she was sent away, no older than nine when she was torn away from all she knew. Now, almost ten years later, Aria faced the walls of Camelot once again, and she remembered things she wanted to forget.

_The knock on her door rang sharp and clear. There was a guard behind it and he was to take Aria away. She had been given two days to pack her things and to say goodbye. She had packed nothing and said goodbye to no one. Aria had spent her two days either crying in her room or pleading with her father to let her stay._

_She did not want to leave, she was only a child, and the thought of being separated from all she knew petrified her. Aria's green eyes had not dried once in those two days, but on this third day, her small face was set in a mask of maturity and indifference. This was the face of someone far beyond the nine and a half years of this child. It was the face of someone who had been forced to grow up because of one mistake._

_The grip on her shoulder was not tight, Aria could have run at any moment as she was lead away from Camelot, but she didn't. She was no longer wanted there, and she knew that._  
_Her father stood only a short distance away, he watched his small daughter being lead away without a word to stop it. He showed no emotion, made no move to say goodbye, and did not seem to care whatsoever about the small blonde girl that had his eyes. When those eyes turned on him to wordlessly beg him one more time to let her stay, he turned away. Aria had spent her whole life believing her father didn't love her, but this was her proof._

Aria wanted nothing more than to turn and run away from Camelot once again, but another memory crept upon her. The boy with blonde hair and blue eyes that stood behind their father and was left standing alone as her father walked away. Whose face was not hidden behind the same mask of indifference as Aria. Aria remembered him. She took one step towards Camelot.

 

The one step lead to  _one more,_ then  _just a little further,_ until Aria stood in  **The Rising Sun Inn** , buying room for the next fortnight.

No introductions were made between the innkeeper and herself. She just gave him the gold, he gave her the key and asked if she expected visitors. She did not.

As Aria headed toward the room the man said was hers ( albeit temporarily), she could not help but to feel some relief that the innkeeper had not said much. She was glad, not only that he had not asked for her name, but in turn not given his.

The innkeeper could now stay in her mind as only a vague man, who had given his name nor any indication of a personality what so ever. Aria had nothing to remember him by, and for that, she silently thanked him.

Aria intended to keep Camelot as nothing to her, and getting to know it's citizens was not something Aria desired. It would only make distancing herself from the city hard. So for as long as she stayed in Camelot, Aria had no desire on becoming acquainted with its people.  _No matter what,_ Aria added to herself.

On the same No Attachment line of thinking, Aria was contented to see that she had a plain room. It was small and had one window facing a bland view of a muddy back street with shutters that Aria doubted latched close. Under the sill lay an old cupboard, that Aria thought  _No doubt infested with moths._  The bed was little more than a compressed and stained straw mattress that lay atop of an unstable wooden base that seemed to be held together with nothing more than two rusted nails.

A good thing about the room was that the small size of it almost guaranteed Aria a roommate-free living arrangement. Also, the open window wouldn't be much of a problem seeing as aria always slept with an open window. Even if the room was not bad overall, Aria knew she would never sleep well in Camelot. She would never allow herself to.

Aria removed the burden of her pack from her shoulders and lay it on the bed, the weight of it making the frame croak out a protest. The pack had about five days of food in it, a week if Aria stretched it a bit. The minute amount of coin left after renting the room had Aria vying for the latter option.

Aria knew that she would have to use her remaining coin sparingly if her plan ended up being extended. She looked down disparagingly, her pinched and blistered feet are hidden in the far too small pair of boots she had accidentally grabbed in haste.

Aria needed to find paid work soon. She contemplated the thought; the idea of becoming a servant in the castle was immediately dismissed. There was a possibility that there was work in the town, but that could lead to more exposure than she wanted. Maybe if she could find just a few odd jobs here and there, Aria might be able to gather just enough coin to afford a proper pair of footwear.

That sounded well enough to Aria. It was decided then, she would start looking tomorrow morning.

Aria looked at her feet again and felt every blister throb to her heartbeat. The trip had been long and far, and with every moment the straw mattress was steadily looking more and more like an oasis.

Aria removed her pack from the bed to sit for the first time in days, not bothering just yet to put it in the cupboard. She began to slowly and surgically remove her boots.

Aria rested against the one pillow and her eyes suddenly stuck together, feeling a million pounds. Aria knew that there was no staying vigilant through this night, as she had the past ones on the run. She was so weary from her travels, that she had no strength to care about much else for the rest of the night. For the next few hours at least, Aria would rest in Camelot, no matter how uneasy that thought made her feel.

That feeling at the pit of her stomach created a voice her head. That voice told her to  _stay awake, stay awake!_  But it was futile, there was nothing Aria could do to keep the exhaustion away any longer, and the voice faded into nothing but a hazy buzz. Aria feel asleep only moments after her eyes closed.

With all voices of reason swept away through the broken shutters, Aria slept through the night and dreamed of voices she used to know and love. These whispered memories in Aria's mind filled Aria's heart with a sad longing like nostalgia.

All this was swept away as well when the light of dawn swam through Aria's closed eyelids and woke her up hours later.

The dull throb of her blisters were now overshadowed by the stretched ache of her lower body. The long journey across three kingdoms with little to no rest left Aria's legs little more than sore muscle.

The pain had to be forgotten, though, because Aria had more important things to focus on. For example, her attire.

Aria did not believe herself to be vain. She thought there was no importance to her appearance, and put no thought towards the people who believed they were better than her because they wore more expensive clothing. Being the best dressed in the room was never on her priority list, and she usually didn't care two cents about what she looked like to others.

However, something very important to her as of late was a low profile. If Aria wished to remain anonymous while in Camelot, she had to blend.

The men's trousers she currently wore, that were stained with six inches of dry dirt starting from the hem up, would do nothing but make Aria stick out. Which meant that she would have to wear a dress for all the foreseeable future in Camelot.

Ignoring the smart pain that shot through her legs, Aria stood up and outfitted herself in a plain dress she dug out of her pack. Hopefully, it would do the trick and camouflage Aria into the crowd.

Her previous reservations about being noticed slowly but surely melted. No one in Camelot seemed to give her any second thought as she walked about the marketplace. Everybody was busy doing this or that, and overall, too lost in their own lives to care about anyone else's.

Aria talked to several people about any odd job they might need doing and received a few silver pieces from the ones who did. The jobs were small enough and the people distracted enough, that Aria had no doubt the would forget her face by the next morning. Anyone in this town that may be questioned on a woman named Aria would know nothing. Especially because anyone in this town that had asked for her name, had been given a false one.

Several hours later Aria walked into The Rising Sun Inn wearing a pair of leather boots that fit her perfectly. Upon entering, she notices two things: one, the innkeeper was busy talking to a man Aria assumed to be a customer, two, they looked like they were discussing something important.

Aria was curious about why these two men bowed their heads and looked as though they were speaking of something of such importance. There was no reason for Aria to want to know. But, a very nasty and long-held habit of Aria's was spying. So she stepped softly into the shadows.

For about as long as her memory went, Aria always found herself a nosy person. She would listen through walls, look through keyholes, and most commonly, eavesdrop from the was a terrible habit, and if ever caught she would most likely learn that lesson, but unfortunately, she never was. So the habit continued.

Calling what she was doing  _observing,_ Aria stepped as close to the men as the shadowed stairs allowed. The man speaking to the innkeeper was elderly and seemed to be the one doing the most talking. He wore robes that covered the rest of his clothing and had a satchel that hung from his shoulder.

A small spark of recognition lit in Aria, but for the life of her, she couldn't place it. She could only see some of his faces and that was partly hidden behind his long hair.

The same curiosity that leads her to look in the first place now pushed Aria into getting a better view of the man. With a half thought out reason for speaking to the innkeeper, she approached the desk and stepped out from her dark corner.

When Aria was close enough to them that she could clearly hear the men's voices, the small nagging feeling of recognition hit her once again.

"It doesn't taste a whole lot better than swamp water, but it'll do the job just fine I believe," The elder man said. The innkeeper nodded solemnly, looking the part of the little boy who was told to take his medicine.

Medicine.

Aria suddenly knew exactly who this man was. It was the court physician in Camelot. It was Gaius. Aria was swept by old memories she believed lost long ago. Memories of the old man that was always there for those who needed him. For every scrap, scratch, bump, and bruise, it was Gaius that fixed it.

Aria suddenly wished to be anywhere else in the world. No matter how irrational the fear may be, or how long ago they last saw each other, Aria still remembered the man's quick mind and knowing eyes. Even if her father himself saw her now, he would not recognize Aria. But Gaius would.

There was no time for her to flee, no move she could make at this point that wouldn't bring attention to her. She was close enough to reach out and touch the two men at the desk. Any plan of escape was futile.

Gaius turned. He looked directly at Aria, the recognition in his eyes said everything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Curiosity is an emotion, a force, a pure impulse of nature that can place the careless at a dagger's edge if not mindful. On this sharp scale, the weight of a grain of sand can prove of fatal importance. Aria, personifying that very grain, understood not to falter. Any stumble on her part could lead her emotions to betray her and direct the man holding the scale to search for her. To search his memory for the person Aria had once been and to ask the questions Aria did not long to answer.

_Why am I here?_

_**You did something wrong** _ _._

Aria stood on the inn's stained and scuffed hardwood floor, her eyes locked on the pair before her - eyes that were blue with age and sharp with wit and knowledge - and she felt ice run through her in loo of blood. She felt as if she had been standing in place for forever and a day, with her heart echoing war drums - she felt it beat a thousand miles a minute. Outside of her, however, mere seconds had passed since Gius had turned.

Nevertheless, Aria had since seen the spark of recognition in his eyes, the spark that, if not snuffed quickly, could burn down what little Aria had built. Even if the flicker had yet to inspire a full flame, somewhere in this man's trained and practiced mind, he still knew who this face had once belonged. It was only a matter of time before the realization struck him, and it would land on him with the same strength of a blow that his presence had on Aria.

_**You'll like it there** _

The spacious room where they stood was well-lit and warmed by a lively hearth, placed in the heart of the room, where toasted stones above formed a chimney that funneled out the smoke away and into infinity. Half-wicked candles adorned the sturdy beams that bore the thatch above, before the glow of one candle could reach its limit to the light it could cast, another added it's blush, so no passerby may go cold and be wanting of its incandescents. Perfect displays of dance shifted across the walls in form of shadow and light, flickering together in perfect counterbalance.

_I don't._

This serenity was lost on Aria, it would seem, as it was corrupted by the quicksand she was lost in. In the narrative of her mind, this room was Hades, the underworld itself, and had no olive branch to bare out to her, no clear sign of escape.

Aria felt nothing of the fire's gaze, only the sharp chill of fear run down her spine. The chimney was all but useless to her, as it was on fire's smog that Aria blamed the smoke that choked her and prevented her breath. The candle's inconsiderate attention to her was most unwelcome of all, as it left her in full view to the prying scrutiny of the scholarly medic. Aria had never particularly invested herself in religion, but as there is no atheist in a foxhole, she prayed; prayed for a breath to bring the end of the damning spotlights, as well as the end of the unblinking gaze Guise held on her.

The internal war described has lasted the span of, perhaps, only three or four beats. Opposed to the eternity Aria has lived in her relative space, this meeting has lasted less than a proper minute, and that observation must be taken into account to understand that Guise was oblivious to the internal turmoil Aria fought. It was this ignorance that guided him to ask her the worst and most terrifying question she had ever been faced with answering.

He quirked a brow, peered at her from the bridge of his nose, and asked, " And who are you then?"

_Who are you?_

_**My name is Duncan, It is my job to keep you out of trouble** _ _._

_Good luck_

Her heart beat, a shot in her throat. "I am…" she replied - beat again - "I am not where I am supposed to be". Once more it drummed, though to her relief, her nerves could not be heard in her speech. To Guise, and the outward world, she seemed nothing but a stranger meeting another; while inside, an unspoken terror raged. She did not break eye contact nor did she switch her weight between her feet, as her anxious muscled pleaded her to do, no, she showed nothing of her internal desire to turn on her heel and run in the opposite direction. She had trained herself for this her entire life, this skill had worked well so far, and Aria put her faith and hope that it would pull her through this transaction. There are people in the world whom Aria let know her name and on great effort on her part, there were many more people in the world who did not. Guise already knew this name, knew this face, but Aria did not want to let him know he held this information. Aria planned to use all the powers at her disposal, every evasion tactic short of lying, to escape this bear trap around her ankle.

"Lost actually" , as she was in a way.

_**Are you lost again?** _

_No_

_**Then where do you think you are then?** _

_With you_

"And where are you meant to be?"

_Home. Diera._

"Elsewhere."

"Do I know of this elsewhere? I know Camelot well, perhaps I can guide you there?" Guise would seem to any eavesdropper as a gentile man offering a helping hand to a lost young woman, his words and demeanor expressed nothing but kindness, but Aria could see his true intentions in his offer. It was a very clever way of finding out information about the person that catches your curiosity. Guise was not innocent of being curious, and that meant she was stirring his memory enough to make him want to dig in his mind for her. This was a very dangerous thing for Aria.

The innkeeper spoke now, with a loud voice so loud Aria flinched. It was a dramatic difference from the soft voices that had been shared between the pair on the other side of the counter, and the very observation of the man's ability to hear such a whispered transaction gives truth to how unneeded his volume was now.

"Guise knows this kingdom better than anyone else I've ever met! Well, I wouldn't even think the king himself to know it any better! He'll get you to where you need, no question about it!"

_**Follow me, I know where we are** _

_No_

_**Why not?** _

_I'll find my way._

"Im sure I'll find my way on my own."

"So you've been in Camelot before then…?" Again, Guise asked an innocent question that probed Aria for information about who she may be and why he felt he recognized her.

_**Have you ever even been here before?** _

_Probably_

She broke her gaze with Giuse and avoided the innkeeper's gaze as well, instead she looked around the room. Aria knew to hear her speech could end in Guise recognize it as the voice of one who was once familiar to him and perhaps even reminds him of the people Aria had once known as her family. Aria also knew that lies would only worsen the situation by far, it was a truth known to any in Camelot that Guise could sniff out a lie within seconds.

So, Aria found a near truth to tell instead. As she gazed around the room she found no oasis in, she spoke a truth that somewhat answered his question with the fewest words possible.

"Not here," she said. This was true enough, as it was only yesterday she had ever been in this  _particular_ part of town before.

_**Arnt you afraid?** _

There are few people in the world wholly unafraid. As you have observed, our heroine is not one of them. Her fear at this moment shall not be reiterated, but it does remain. There is one thing about Aria that has yet to be noted, however, that needy help explains to you why her fear has yet to overcome her and persuade her to run away. Her pride.

Aria herself would deny it's existence, but that does not definitively mean she does not possess this trait. Her father was a very prideful man, and Aria inherited this aspect of herself from him, but in him, it was horrible and ended always in a bad way. In his daughter, it was the kind pride that bloomed warmth in her chest when she had done something well. The pride that prevented her from cowering away.

_Of course I'm afraid, but I can do this._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the old and strangely always knowing eyes of the physician met Aria's, out of instinct, she held them unblinkingly. As crystal blue held forest green, Aria, who had been moments before a young girl, now transfigured into marble. Guise acted in the place of the old religion's 'Gorgon', Man turned Medusa. As he looked into her, he turned the once-girl into a cold and unfeeling statue. She was no coward, she refused to look away – she had too much of her father's pride in her to shrink under anybody's gaze. This was, perhaps, the only reason he could truly place her.

The child of such a father, no matter if separated or despised, could never completely sever the ties that mark them as kin.

As Aria stood with her joints of stone, there was more of her father in her than she ever could have realized, but Giuse saw it in her then, and would have been able to place her in even if her eyes had not already betrayed her. Giuse was the first to blink, as recognition set in them.

It was then when Aria understood that she had lost the battle, and Giuse had already, in only a moment, figured out who she was. This was when she looked away.

The nameless innkeeper was her salvation. "Did you need something?" He asked, voice gruff but subservient and almost kind, noticing his customer had approached his desk, seemingly in need of something from him. Aria wondered if he had caught any hint of the war of gazes she had lost, or if he could possibly guess the meaning of her defeat.

"I'd like a basin of water to be brought to my room if that's possible." Aria said to him calmly, with no hint of the content of her mind betrayed in her voice.

" 'Course." The innkeeper chuffed, nodding his large, meaty head.

Aria gave a thin-lipped smile and turned in an about-face to head back to the salvation of her room, but she was captured by the voice of Guise, ensnaring her with a question.

"Has anyone ever told you, you have interesting eyes?" His tone rested in the realm of accusation, and not a query. Aria knew she was found out.

"No." She told the truth, no one ever had, no one knew enough to think them strange. To the average observer, they were of average shape and size, and the dark green color was often overlooked to be a muck brown. Giuse knew better, Giuse was not an average onlooker, he not only looked, he saw. And he saw her for what she was, who she was.

"You have an irregularity in the iris of your right eye – just there-" He pointed to the splotch of brown that hid in the green of her eyes, a trait she knew she shared with her father, the only physical similarity they shared. Where his hair was dark, hers was light, where he was lofty and tall, she was hardly seen as more than a child due to her slight build. There had once been a time, brief as it was in her childhood when she had prayed to one day grow into the same imposing visage of her father. She had wanted so desperately for him to finally accept her. That had been a very long time ago.

"It is a genetic characteristic, rare, as it is not always passed on. In fact, I myself have only seen it in one other person here in Camelot." Guise continued.

Aria knew he wouldn't simply drop the subject, she knew that the safety she sought in her rented room was too far away. It may have been her own stubborn pride that kept her from running, but it had already won over her fear, as her curiosity had won over her sense of self-preservation. Perhaps her inability to step away from the bear trap she had stepped into was what would one day lead her to her doom. Aria knew what game Guise was playing, she saw through him just as easily as he had seen through her. The only difference was, Guise thought he would win the game. Aria had always been too much like her father, too prideful and temperamental. Neither of them liked to lose, and Aria had a long history of throwing the pieces into the fire before she had to admit she was wrong or weak. She could not lose the game she refused to play.

Aria looked again into the eyes of the mad old man who believed he could win this battle of wills with her. She held his eyes for a moment and set the gameboard ablaze with the only two words that would end Guise's play.

"The King."

She let the fire of the end of their conversation burn in her eyes for the smallest of moments before she turned on her heel with a rod-straight back and fled from the damnation she had brought unto herself.

With every step up, Aria had to hold her breath and study the stairs. Every wooden panel stained with age and spilt ale or spilt blood of the drunken passerby too inebriated to properly climb them, she counted them, and bit her inside of her mouth. There had been sixteen. Three of them squeaked. Three of them had called out their discomfort, but no mere groan of the old wood could match the screams inside Aria. With every step away from the confrontation that forged her pride disguised as false courage Aria lost the warmth of the fires and the steel inside her that held her up. With all the steps conquered, the door closed and latched behind her, that steel was gone, and the last strength that kept her standing had abandoned her. The Princess of Camelot collapsed on the grimy floor of the Inn room and wept.

She had planned to say goodbye to her brother before her death. She supposed that was a lost hope. Guise had always been the King's most loyal and trusted adviser, anything Guise knew was not withheld for long. The length of Aria's life rested now upon the time it took the old man to travel from the inn back to the Castle.


End file.
